Maturing
A poem
Tomatoes green Broccoli leaves Water and sun Nourish their buds Strive to give them The best protection From rabbits and deer Disease and despair Nice and comfy Their beds start roomy Slowly they grow Our nurturing sown Until the day We have our way And pluck them from Their childhood home Our hunger yearns As they’ve matured They should’ve known better Than to have great texture Free to eat To cut apart and squeeze Never to be A disgraceful tease They’ve dreamt of this age From their twin bed days It’s all okay It’s better this way Next year we’ll have more From seed to flower And again we’ll take The juiciest The prettiest The most delicious If they didn’t want to be eaten They shouldn’t have been so darn appealing
Thank you so much for reading In the Clouds! This is a personal outlet I created to nurture my own creativity and to connect with other artsy people out in the world.
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Aww love this! So fun to hear you read it out loud... and now I'm looking out towards the garden (where the clouds just turned bright pink - very a propos for your substack!) thinking 'just a bit more patience til I can eat those winter salads I planted' 😄. So darn appealing indeed!
This is how I feel about snacks on my kitchen counter and by my work desk: "If they didn’t want to be eaten, They shouldn’t have been so darn appealing". Sounds like a THEM problem lol